Substitute
by D4cHilliN
Summary: When Bulma comes down with a cold, Vegeta is forced to step up and become the dominant parent. But that's easier said then done. Now, he finds himself pitted against one foe that might just trump him: Domestication!


Long time no see? Haha. Don't worry; I'll update my other stories after writers' block leaves me alone. But for now, enjoy another oneshot. ^_^

A LONG, easily the longest, one shot I've ever done.

* * *

**_Substitute._**

* * *

With a lazy, contented smirk and dirty thoughts, Vegeta rolled over in the bed he shared with his beautiful, blue haired wife and reached out for her, his eyes still closed. He wondered what time it was and if she had to be somewhere today but quickly dismissed the thought. He figured he'd have her clothes off in two seconds, do what needed to be done in less than ten and leave her satisfied to go train in the Gravity Machine.

With his plan at the front of his brain, he purred, "Woman." Before opening his eyes and freezing instantly. His once sensual face transformed slowly into a look of disgust at the sight before him.

With a scowl on her face, obviously sensing what the Saiyan wanted, Bulma sat leaning on the back of the headboard, fully awake. But that wasn't what had surprised the short man.

Bulma let out a series of coughs and hacks into a tissue and sighed tiredly. Then, in a congested voice, she spat out, "Not in the mood anymore, huh?"

Her sarcasm made the man break from his daze and sneer. He narrowed his eyes on her face and took in her disheveled look. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, crusts forming in the corners. Her lips were cracked dry; her long blue locks were tangled and untamed, forming a slight afro on top of her head. She was breathing through her nose quite heavily and a steady pile of tissues were forming on the floor beside her side of the bed.

She looked sick.

Vegeta hung his head in disappointment. He knew exactly what was in store for him. Bulma had acquired these kinds of colds many times beforehand. Her attitude increased to annoying levels, she always looked horrible and was pretty vicious. But the unfortunate thing was that he was always on the receiving end of her bad mood.

She narrowed her eyes. "Hey, don't get mad at me!" She yelled, picking up on his thoughts. "It's not my fault I get sick."

"In actuality, it's completely your fault." He stated flatly, rolling out of bed onto his feet. "If you took better care of yourself then maybe you wouldn't succumb to them."

Bulma watched in anger as he padded into the connecting bathroom. "Well _SOR-RAY_ for not being a dumb, stupid, macho idiot alien who is seemingly immune to the diseases on this planet!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes while he brushed his teeth. "Oh, I feel so _sorry_ for your calamity." He called back, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

She huffed, opened her mouth to retort but then started to cough and heave, holding her chest against the convulsions. When they finally subsided, she glanced up only to see the flamed haired man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching her with a quizzical eyebrow raised.

"What!?"

He smirked. "You don't sound too good." He ducked away from the pillow chucked at him.

"Listen, Prince of the Bigheads." She grinned wickedly when he frowned at her insult. "I don't have time for you right now. _But_, since I'm confined to my bed for the time being, I'm going to need a little effort from you, got it?"

He was silent for a beat. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Her grin widened as she announced, "You're going to have to be mommy today." She laughed afterwards but soon enough her cackles turned into coughing and she sneezed heavily.

Vegeta waited for her to collect herself before erupting heatedly, "Absolutely not!"

"Do you have anything better to do?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. It's called training."

She sighed. "You can abandon the GR for a day, Vegeta. I'm sure it won't mind your absence."

Her attempt at sarcasm went unnoticed by him. He stared for a beat and then repeatedly angrily, "Absolutely not!"

"Yes!" Bulma told him more forcefully, crossing her arms under her breasts. "Who else is going to cook and clean if I can't?"

He 'humphed' and folded his arms as well, turning to the side. "Your parents can handle all those things."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Believe it or not Vegeta, but my parents are _old_. They can't do all the stuff they use to. Besides, they can't cook. My mom's specialty is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and hah, don't get me started on my father. He practically lives off of jello and pudding."

"Well, I don't know how to work that infernal contraption you call a stove!"

"Now's your chance to learn. You are their _father_ after all." Bulma knew just how risky and probably, illogical it was to have _her_ husband try and be parental. It wasn't that he was, necessarily, _bad_ at it. Just that his way of doing certain things were different than a regular person's. Probably because he was _far from_ regular. But, she had to have faith in him. If only because there was really no one else to rely on.

Vegeta glared at her in fury, muscles contracting in his forearms. He saw the amused spark in her eyes and knew she was enjoying the idea of him being 'mother hen' to their two children. "Can't they take care of themselves?" It was his last ditch effort at trying to get out of it, they both knew. His voice had been flat and he was clearly realizing that he'd have to do as his wife asked.

Bulma waved the question off, sneezed and wiped her nose with a tissue before saying dryly, "And try not to burn down the house."

It was official. Vegeta was now in charge. With no way to avoid what was yet to come.

With one last growl, a glare to his wife and a scowl, the short Saiyan spun on his heel and stomped angrily out of the room, slamming the door closed on his way out, the force of it causing a vibration that shook its frame.

******

Trunks was the first Briefs child to emerge from his large room and trek indolently downstairs and enter the kitchen, slumping into the seat he'd designated for himself since he first learned how to walk. With his eyelids barely open, the lavender haired teen laid his hands on the table and waited patiently for the smell of breakfast to swirl in the air.

Bulla came down next and, by looking at the two, you could see that neither were much of morning people. She yawned and took her seat across from her brother, eyes glazed with sleep, hair messy and uncombed. Then, she too waited for breakfast to get done followed by the familiar ritual of morning escapades.

They didn't expect however to see their father arrive in the kitchen three minutes later. Alone. He glanced at his children, mumbled something incoherent then folded his arms across his chest. "What do you brats want to eat?" Definitely not in a good mood.

The grogginess from the kids was instantly washed away when the question finally filtered through their brains and their eyes widened dramatically, identical blue irises wide with confusion and maybe fear.

"Where's mom?" Was the answer Vegeta got from them both in unison.

He growled. "She's sick. Now what the hell do you two eat?"

But they weren't letting up. "Sick!?" Bulla exclaimed, sharing a look of surprise with her brother. "But she can't be sick!"

"Who's going to fix us breakfast!?"

"And help me fix my hair!?"

"I need proper nutrition before I go to school!"

"I can't go to school with my hair a mess!"

With a twitching eye, a scowl and a growl, the Prince stomped over to the kitchen table and slammed a hard fist down on top of it, gaining the attention of the hysterical kids. They turned to him and blinked. "Enough. Now, listen up. Your mother is _sick_. She is much too ill to get out of bed so _I_ shall be taking over and performing all the silly activities she does." His speech complete, Vegeta straightened and smirked.

There was a beat of silence before Bulla exclaimed, "WHAT!?" Vegeta's smirk vanished at her expression.

Trunks burst into laughter, holding his sides. "Dad, are you serious?" His laughter immediately ceased when he saw his father's narrowed eyes and he smiled nervously.

The fire haired male rolled his eyes. "I'm deadly serious. It's not as if this will be hard. I've beaten enemies strong enough to blow up galaxies with a blink of an eye. Surely, fixing breakfast will be easy." He seemed to be talking more to himself as he crossed to the stove and stared down at it with a raised eyebrow.

The lavender haired eighteen year old was quite sure that his father was embellishing about the strength of former enemies and he was certain that this would be an opponent his father had never dreamed of before.

"Daddy?"

Vegeta turned to stare at his daughter who had seemed to have gotten over her panic as she grinned up at him. He knew from experience that the eleven year old didn't have much of attention span aside from shopping, her _'hairdo'_ and, just recently, _boys_. Girls were growing up quicker, his wife had said the first time they'd caught Bulla talking on the phone with a boy. Vegeta hadn't gotten over the fact of his little girl maturing but he had learned how to give her her space. Kindof.

"Eggs and bacon, please."

He scrunched his face at her statement, confused. But when his son spoke up and said flatly that he'd have the same, the man realized they were referring to what food they preferred for breakfast. Obvious.

Vegeta grabbed two eggs out of the fridge, stared at them and then grabbed six more. He stopped again and decided to use all the eggs in the bin. Laying the bin of thirty or so eggs on the counter, he then pulled out eleven packages of bacon and shrugged, guessing it'd be enough.

"You need a frying pan."

He shot his son a warning glare that told him he didn't need his help and pulled out the utensil, sitting it on the stove. The blue eyed kids watched as their father turned the dial on the stove to the highest temperature (_because it'd cook faster that way_) and cracked the eggs over top of it.

"Uh dad-"

"Quiet!"

Trunks frowned and did as told. He watched in disgust while his father cracked the eggs and dumped them into the frying pan, _shell and all_.

Bulla, too restless to stay still, started to swing her legs and hum to herself, her mind traveling to more important subjects so she didn't see when her dad stacked the bacon on top of the cooking eggs, smashing them down with a fork.

Ten minutes later, the blue haired girl gazed at her father in shock while he scraped the blackened, charred remains of his attempted breakfast on to her plate. She glanced at her brother who looked to be holding back a gag as he poked his 'food' with his fork.

"What's this?" She asked.

"Bacon and eggs." Vegeta replied back flatly. He didn't seem to notice his kid's looks of horror.

"You know what," Trunks laughed stiffly, getting to his feet. "I...I'm just gonna grab some food at school before I'm late. It looks _great_ though dad, honestly." He forced a smile at his dad, turned and raced out of the kitchen in a flash, remembering to cross his fingers at his lie.

Bulla heard the door slam and shot to her feet as well. "Uh...me too!" Was all she said, before following her brother's example.

Vegeta growled, knowing full well what their true intentions were. Well, fine by him, he'd just eat it himself. The man picked up a piece of burnt bacon, sniffed it and recoiled back. "Note to self: Never cook." Then he flipped the substances in the trash and fixed himself a sandwich.

******

"So? How'd it go?"

Vegeta gave his wife an annoyed glance as he entered their bedroom. He had just spent a half hour 'redecorating' it to her liking. She now had; ten boxes of tissues in reach, the big screen from downstairs, fresh sheets, her favorite heels(for what reason, he didn't know), all the movies she'd ever bought, snacks, hair supplies and the remote control. To be frank, she was mighty comfortable aside from her watery eyes, sneezing fits and stuffed up nose.

"How'd what go?"

"Breakfast! Were the kids surprised?" She asked in a grin, clicking on the remote. From underneath the sheets, he could see the outline of her heels and smirked at her peculiar obsession.

"Oh, they were and it went _swell_."

Bulma either didn't notice his sarcasm or chose not to acknowledge it. "That's good! Did Trunks remember his project? Oh and how'd Bulla have her hair?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Project?"

Bulma's eyes went wide. "Oh Vegeta, you didn't let him forget it did you!?"

"Forget _what_?"

"His project! His science project!" She wiped her eyes and sniffed. "It was in his backpack. He took his backpack right?"

Vegeta just stared and it was enough to tell her the answer. Bulma pursed her lips and sighed.

"Well, Bulla has her purse right?"

That got another blank stare from her husband and the blue haired woman groaned. "What does she need a purse for?" He muttered.

"Her makeup!"

"She's ELEVEN!"

"You obviously don't understand what it's like to be a young girl growing up."

"Of course not, you ignorant woman. I'm a MAN after all."

Bulma snorted. "You're height says otherwise."

Vegeta growled and flexed his fingers. "Watch it. Just because you're sickly doesn't mean I won't blast you to oblivion."

She only smiled at his threat and gave him an almost endearing look. "Now don't go getting your underwear in a knot, dear. You wouldn't want to deal with the mess afterwards." A grunt was all she got in response. "Now go and take the kids their stuff."

"Wha-For what!? It's not like they can't live a day without it."

"Bulla may be able to but not Trunks. His project is due today and I helped him with it. We spent all week perfecting it and I'll be damned if he fails because his overbearing father is much too proud to aid his son with one small favor."

Vegeta opened his mouth to retort but then snapped it shut after wards. He decided rather to just do it and get it over with if only to shut the woman up. It wouldn't be that bad, he thought as he stalked out of his bedroom. Just find the boy, shove it in his face and leave.

"And while you're out, take Bulla her purse!"

There was a loud bang that resounded and Bulma deduced that her husband had punched the wall. It wasn't much of an assumption though because the indent of his hand could be seen from where she lied.

******

Sitting in his Literature class, head down, eyes half closed, Trunks Briefs was daydreaming about what else then a girl. This girl happened to be sitting in the same exact class at the moment, two seats to the right and one row up. Her hair was a dark brown that contrasted to her light, milky eyes which were the focus of his daydream. At the moment, he was visioning them in the shape of pudding and was licking them slowly. The strangeness of it didn't really bother him. His stomach grumbled and he kept at his pace of licking, in his dream anyway.

He was well on his way to finishing the second pudding-eye when the bell rung and he snapped awake, blinking. After collecting his books, he stumbled out of the door and yawned, heading towards his third hour. He was greeted by Goten, his best friend for a good ten years or so, who came up to walk in step with him.

"Wow man, you look....tired."

Trunks smiled mirthlessly at the boy's annoying habit of stating the obvious and led the way into the bathroom, yawning again and coming to a stop to stare into the mirror while Goten went and handled his business in a stall.

A few seconds later, a group of seven or so boys came barging in, laughing and shouting at who knew what. Trunks rolled his eyes at their ruckus and was only mildly irritated when one of the seven clapped a hand on his back and shoved something white and thin in his face.

"Hey dude! Try this?"

The lavender haired teen looked at it then looked back at the red-eyed boy whom he recognized from his fifth hour. They had never spoken to each other so he wondered why the boy was talking to him now.

Not only that, but he was offering him what Trunks could only assume was weed.

"Nah man, I'm good."

All the boys guffawed and make chicken noises. "Come on Trunks dude, just try it! It'll wake you up." They all had shit-eating grins on their abused cell brained faces.

Pondering on how the boy knew and/or remembered his name, Trunks grabbed the illegal substance and rolled his eyes again. He wasn't one to yield to peer pressure or even care what others thought about him. And he was just about to throw the thing in the trash until a voice from behind him made him stop in his tracks.

"Boy."

Time seemed to stop. Every boy occupying the stalls froze, the seven boys who had been cackling froze and most importantly, Trunks stood ramrod straight in shock, whispering to himself and praying that it wasn't who he thought it was.

His prayers weren't answered however because when he turned, he saw the short, muscular frame of his father. He blinked two times as if he didn't believe it and then grimaced, slowly looking at what was in between his fingers and then turning to glance his father's narrowed eyebrows.

Instantly, activity started again and everyone hustled out of the bathroom, seemingly afraid of the shorter male and with good reason. Goten was buckling up his belt as he skirted out, making sure not to come within arm reach of his best friend's dad and shooting the blue eyed boy a sympathetic look before disappearing out the bathroom door.

That left just Trunks and his father. He smiled shakily and held up his hands in defense. "Dad, it's not what it looks-"

"Save it." Vegeta walked over to him and the teen braced himself for what was to come. He was plenty surprised when the man held up a book bag (_a familiar black and red one...had that been in his hand the entire time?_) and handed it to him.

Trunks blinked, flicked the drug in the trash and took the item tentatively.

"Next time, if you're going to fry your brain cells, you can at least have the common courtesy to do it in the privacy of the bathroom stall." Vegeta informed dryly receiving an offended wince from his son. "Your mother sent me here to give you that. Speaking of which, she'd be awfully disappointed if she were to hear about this." Not like he cared. With the way his day was going already, he was literally itching for someway to anger his wife.

"But-But I wasn't smoking it!"

The elder Saiyan smirked. He had already deduced that but he felt better reassured when his son said it. "Right. And open a window next time." He then turned on his heel and started out.

Trunks watched him go with a puzzled expression, eyeing what looked like a leather purse in the guy's other hand, and sighed. Had he just dodged a bullet or supplied ammunition?

*********

His daughter's school was fairly harder to locate if only because her power level was much lower then her brother's. Vegeta touched down onto the soil a few minutes after leaving the high school after flying around a bit more to get the smell of narcotics off his person and strolled inside. He was both relieved and unimpressed at the level of security both schools had. A murderer could walk right in and get a visitor's pass.

After walking around for a good five minutes or so, he finally identified his little girl's power level and was more then surprised when he turned a corner and spotted her.

His eye twitched angrily and his mouth curved downwards into a scowl at the sight before him.

Bulla, in a revealing outfit he was pretty sure she hadn't left in, was leaning on a locker a few feet from her infuriated father's gaze with a boy, who looked to be twice her age and three times her body weight (_all muscle, rest assured_) leaned over her, a smile on his face that Vegeta didn't like. They were both engaged in a conversation and, judging from their intimacy, the Prince could only guess the nature of it.

It took him less then 2.3 seconds to have the boy (_how old was he? 40!?_) on the ground, with his arm bent at an unnatural angle, eyes wide in fright and confusion, screaming in pain.

Bulla blinked at the suddenness of it, gasped when she finally realized what was going on and then yelled, "DAD! What are you doing!?"

He shot her a deadly glare. "I could ask you the same thing. Shouldn't you be in class instead of making out with someone old enough to be your grandfather?" He held the boy's arm tightly and smirked when he felt a bone crack.

But she refused to answer any of his questions. "Stop! You're hurting him!"

"That's the idea."

The blue haired girl perfected a one and only Vegeta type scowl and exclaimed, "Would you stop it!? You're going to kill him dad! Let him GO!"

It was either the look of fear in his daughter's eyes or the look of concern that propelled him to do as she said and let the boy go. A number of people had emerged from shut doors and were now peering curiously at the three. Bulla dropped down to comfort the groaning and whining boy on the floor and watched as people started to crowd in. "Jeez dad! Do you have to be so embarrassing!?" She whispered harshly. "And...Such a jerk!? Can't you go one day without asserting your strength!?"

With a shocked expression at her words (_was it him, or was she sounding more like Bulma each day?_), Vegeta looked up when police officers came pushing through the crowd and decided it was time to go. He sat the purse down beside his angered _(or saddened?_) daughter and sighed. He opened his mouth to say something, couldn't come up with anything to say to her and just fazed out of sight. He was only slightly hurt at the fact that she didn't spare him a goodbye or even a glance.

_My son smokes weed. My daughter skips class. I've got to say; we've excelled as parents._

********

The first thing Vegeta was aware of when he returned to Capsule Corporation and walked into through the door was a high pitched ringing noise. To a human, it would have been faint and almost nonexistent but to his Saiyan ears, it was fairly loud and obnoxious. With a growl, he stopped upstairs, followed the noise and wasn't startled when he found the source of it.

With a grin on her pale, sickly face, a pile of tissues on the floor and a clutter of other miscellaneous objects he had brought up to their bedroom, Bulma sat in bed, curled up in covers with a tiny, gold bell in her hand.

"What the fuck is that?"

"I found it! Isn't it great? Now instead of straining my voice, I can just ring the bell! Cool right?" She coughed and sputtered before adding, "I can't believe I hadn't found this thing sooner."

She got an eye twitch out of her husband and a sarcastic, "Oh joy."

"So? Did you give the kids their things?"

He nodded slightly. The extra information about the trips could be left out, he decided.

"And? You didn't blow up anything did you? Hurt anyone?"

He wondered if the boy Bulla had been with was hurt and then shrugged. Bulma took that response with hearty gratitude. "Good job sweetie, you're getting the hang of this!"

He rolled his eyes and started to leave until she called his name. "What?"

"My mom called me from the grocery store." She explained with a cough and a sneeze. "Her car broke down so you're gonna have to go get her. I keep telling her not to use the old models but you know how she is with her antiques."

No, he _didn't_ know how she was! Vegeta stared wide eyed at his wife and exclaimed angrily, "Why can't your father go get her!?"

Bulma put a hand to her chin in thought which only caused the prince to growl. "Well, he's out at my meetings, covering for me. I didn't expect _you_ to do that. I suppose I could ring him up but then _you'd_ have to go see my clients." Her expression was wary when she asked, "You don't want to do that do you?"

She didn't want him to do that, that much was obvious, he thought wryly. He considered his options: Dealing with Bulma's exasperating mother or enduring her ridiculous dumb, know-it-all clients?

With a heavy sigh and a couple of muttered obscenities, he asked grudgingly, "So where's the dumb broad at?"

*****

If there was anything worse then having to go pick up Mrs. Briefs from a _mall_ it would be picking Mrs. Briefs up from a mall in one of the_ ridiculous_ vehicles the humans called hover cars. It wasn't that they were especially hard to drive (Vegeta had aced the test on the first try if only because he had threatened his driving instructor and cheated on his exam) but it was the limited space that the Prince couldn't stand. He liked to fly with air blowing in his hair and nothing weighing him down.

Yet, he still found himself navigating the metal machine through the crowded streets of West City because Bulma had explained that her mother had bought more than twenty three bags of groceries (For the Saiyans at home, of course) and that unless he wanted to carry them all, he'd have to load it in the car.

With the GPS on, the short man came to a rolling stop in the parking lot and instantly spotted the blond haired woman a few spaces down. She was standing beside the broken down car talking to a man half her age but that, apparently, hadn't stopped her from sparking up a conversation (or vice versa). With a disgusted sound, Vegeta parked and got out, stomping over to his dreaded mother-in-law.

The man was giving Mrs. Briefs his number when he arrived. He grunted to show his presence and the two turned to glance at him, Mrs. Briefs' breaking out in a wide grin and shouting, "Oh Vegeta! It's so nice to see you honey."

He blew out a sigh.

The man chuckled nervously. "Is he your uh...husband?"

The look of pure bafflement, revulsion and anger on the prince's face gave the man his answer.

"Oh no, he's my son in law." Mrs. Briefs still chose to explain. "He married my daughter." She added, as if a 'son-in-law' could be anything else but the obvious.

"And _she's_ married as well." Vegeta nodded towards the blond elder woman. He then sneered at the identified man causing him to gulp. "Now I suggest you move on because I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone I don't have to."

That was enough to send the man scurrying off with his tail between his legs. There was something about the short man that intimidated people (maybe his eyebrows?)

"Ah phooey." Mrs. Briefs huffed, putting on a pout that weirdly reminded him of Bulla. "You scared him away."

Vegeta grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards the car. "You're married." He repeated with a roll of his eyes. She was the only wed woman he knew who flirted openly with anyone at anytime.

"I was just having fun!" She giggled. "I'd never cheat on my sweet, little husband."

He turned to give her a questioning glance and suddenly wondered if Bulma acted the same way whenever she went out. He mentally reminded himself to ask the blue haired heiress when he returned home. Shoving the blond in the car, he pointed at her and said sternly, "I'm going to go get the bags out of your car. Stay put." He spoke as if she were a child (_or an animal_) and she only nodded with a smile and watched him walk back towards the car, whistling and catcalling at his 'tasty butt' (_her words_.) only gaining another roll of eyes from the Saiyan and a heavy sigh.

After he loaded all twenty something bags in the car, the test of his patience really began.

"Do you think I should dye my hair, sweetie?"

"Is Bulma feeling better?"

"Do you like the new top I bought?"

"I wonder why Trunks wears clothes with holes in them...."

"Oh! You're muscles are so BIG!"

"You drive pretty slow, dear."

"Oh, a man driving turns me on."

"Do you think I missed my favorite soaps already?"

"I need a manicure."

"Would you like sandwiches and tea when we get home?"

Twenty minutes away from home, stuck in traffic, Vegeta was losing it. Both eyes had begun to twitch, his eyebrows and eyes were narrowed, his teeth were clenched hard enough to form a bulge at the side of his jaw, his form was shaking with pent up rage and his grip on the steering wheel was so tight, his knuckles were white. From Mrs. Briefs' casual gossip, attempts at flirting and unintentional insults, he was considering snapping her neck, leaving her in a ditch and telling his wife she has gone missing.

He finally snapped when she said, "This traffic is terrible! We might be here all day. Oh wait, that'll be fun wont it?!"

Turning onto the opposite lane, Vegeta pressed on the gas pedal and drove wildly, skirting pass cars coming his way and sideswiping vehicles that weren't fast enough to _get out of_ his way. He drove down the wrong lane for a good five or so minutes before police sirens echoed through the air and flashing blue and right lights appeared in his rear view mirror.

Mrs. Briefs, who had enjoyed the rush and excitement of his fast driving and reckless behavior, frowned when she saw the police cruiser. "Oh phooey."

For the simple fact that he didn't feel like dealing with any more idiot humans (_he quite sure that more cruisers would come if he ignored them_), he stopped and pulled over with a growl. A few beats later, a uniform bent down and peered in the window at the two.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"

_No, officer retard, I have no clue. _"I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and say because I was driving on the wrong side of the road?" The hard sarcasm was too much to ignore.

Obviously surprised by the attitude, the officer blinked and asked, "Well why were you sir?"

Vegeta turned slowly to the blond woman in the passenger seat who had began to ramble on about what would happen when they were put in the 'brink' and how she didn't want to be another woman's 'bitch.' The officer finally caught on and stared at the woman as well, only enduring a few minutes of her presence but still thoroughly aggravated.

"That's why. " The prince replied dryly while she screamed,

"You can't do this to us! This is a mockery! Racist pigs! I want a lawyer!"

*******

"Well, that was fun wasn't it!?"

Vegeta gave the blond woman a glare that could have frozen the sun. The officer had actually let them off with a warning (obviously, the policeman was in a bad enough mood to not want to deal with the hysterics of his mother-in-law) and they had gotten home a few minutes later. Now, after helping her cart the groceries into the kitchen, he exited out and left her with the chore of putting the food up. He didn't think he could take another minute in the same vicinity as her any longer.

A bell sounded from upstairs and the man groaned but stormed to his bedroom anyway, opening the door rather softly in contrast to his taut body language.

"What?" He asked through clenched teeth.

His blue haired wife blinked at him. "I heard you come in." She stated with a sniff. "How's mom?"

"Annoying."

"That's good." She turned to sneeze and wiped her nose with a tissue. "I hope she didn't give you a hard time."

He just stared.

"Well shoo now," Bulma motioned with her hands, her focus back on the big screen T.V as screams emitted from it. "Go do something worthwhile. Like vacuum! Go vacuum."

Without another word, the man exited, not even bothering to argue.

*****

Twenty minutes later, the flame haired prince emerged from the bathroom and dressed in his training gear. He had just recently started a transition from wearing normal clothing compared to his usual Saiyan armor if only because his wife complained it took longer to wash. But today he couldn't care less about what his wife thought or how much it'd take to get the fabric clean as he padded towards the backdoor towards the Gravity Machine. He was having a bad enough day.

After vacuuming the downstairs rooms, he had finally been given a break from 'chores' and was going to spend the time training, of course. He hadn't gotten in a minute of it the whole morning and felt long overdue as he opened the door.

He stopped suddenly however when he heard a mumbled sound. It sounded again and he glanced down to stare at the black cat that, up to this point, had only been seen sitting on Dr. Briefs' shoulder. He remembered vaguely that it was called Sketch...or Scratch, something like that. Obviously, the animal had gotten left behind.

The cat twitched its nose and started to rub against the Saiyan's leg. He stiffened at the contact and stepped back.

"What?" He demanded out of the feline as if it'd answer back. It meowed cutely and just stared up at the aggressive man with almost hopeful eyes.

Waving off the creature, the prince continued to the GR. He was pretty shocked when he realized that, half way there, the cat had grabbed a hold of his leg and was holding on tight, its nails digging into his flesh.

Although the pain wasn't severe and didn't bother him, Vegeta still grunted and ripped the cat off of him, leaving quite a lot of perfect holes in his pants. He tried to fling it off into the air but it was now holding on tight to his fingers, meowing lazily. No matter how much he shook or how fast he shook, it wouldn't let go.

He growled in anger, lifted the cat to eye level and narrowed his eyes. "You're getting annoying." He spat out to the little silky, black thing.

It opened its mouth and Vegeta thought it was going to meow again but instead, it made a sound in its throat and hacked up a fur ball the size of its paw. It plopped down on the front of the Prince's shirt and he stood stoic for an instant before sighing.

"Just my luck."

And, as if the Gods were challenging him (or agreeing), all the food and items the cat had eaten came back up in one burp and splattered on him. For such a small thing, it could eat quite a lot.

He wiped off his face, glared at the cat and said flatly, "Oh just _perfect_."

*******

When he got home, Trunks found his father in the kitchen scrubbing viciously at, what looked to be, the blue jumpsuit-type outfit he wore under his Saiyan armor. The lavender haired teen blinked at the display but shrugged it off as he came to walk up behind the man. He smiled nervously when the cold eyed male glanced at him for a split second before returning back t ohis washing.

"What is it?" No matter how soft and accustomed Vegeta had gotten on Earth, Trunks couldn't help but think that he never wasted time with pleasantries. At least, not when he was in a bad mood. And he looked like he was in a _bad_ mood.

"Uh...I kinda...um," The teen breathed it and then blurted out, "I wasn't smoking! They offered me one and stuff and I was gonna throw it away but you-"

"I know."

Trunks blinked and then sighed in relief. "Oh good...'cause it seemed like...I...Well, I thought you didn't believe me." He only got a grunt from his father who was engrossed in the task before him. He stood staring at his dad scrub for a beat before Vegeta turned to give him a raised eyebrow.

"Is there something else you wanted?"

With a blush and a nervous laugh, the boy grinned and put his hand behind his head. The action greatly irritated the Prince if only because his greatest rival Goku (_Kakarot_) did the exact same thing when he was anxious. Vegeta made a mental note to stop letting his offspring hang around the goof's children so much. "Yeah...I...uh...wanted to ask you...something."

The elder Saiyan stopped scrubbing and waited for his son to continue.

It was obvious that the eighteen year old was embarrassed, tense or scared of whatever he had on his mind. Maybe all of them. Trunks made sure to avoid eye contact. "Well...so...Okay, there's this...girl."

The pause wasn't filled by his father so he forged onwards.

"And she has like...these...pretty brown eyes and hair and stuff. She's really cute." He didn't understand how the appearance of the girl had anything to do with it but he kept silent. His father's intent gaze and undivided attention seemed to give the boy a new sense of courage and he said with more conviction. "And I like her!"

There was an awkward silence (_Or maybe it was just awkward to Trunks_) until Vegeta finally asked, "And?"

Trunks faulted and blinked. He had expected some sort of reaction at the statement; anger or......okay so he had just expected anger. Now, onto the actual question. His cheeks flamed hot as he fiddled with his fingers. "Uh...so I was wondering..."

With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Vegeta growled. He was tired of his son's stuttering. "Boy, would you just spit it out!?"

"I was wondering if there's a chance of _hurting_ her!"

His father scoffed and turned back to scrubbing. "Boy, all you have to do is control your strength and you won't hurt her. Just don't play fight with her. What, did you punch a girl in the face before?" He laughed at his own joke.

"No dad, I don't think you understand." Trunks bit his lip. "Not hurt her in that way. I mean _hurt_ her. As in, _hurt_ her." He leaned in and his face was solemn.

With an annoyed expression, Vegeta spun back to face his son, intent on berating him for his stupid questions but then stopped when he got a look at his expression. Something finally hit him and realization lit up his face as his eyebrows and he drawled out, "Ohhhhhhhhhhh."

Trunks smiled but the blush was apparent. He was uncomfortable talking about this.

And the only person who could be more uncomfortable than the son who asked about it would be the dad who'd have to answer.

Vegeta sighed lowly to himself and then said, "Okay....so, this girl-"

"With brown eyes and brown hair."

He raised an eyebrow at the unnecessary information but started again. "Right. So, the brownie girl is...special to you?"

His son nodded numbly. "I...I think she might be."

"Hm. Well, if the.._opportunity_ arises then I suggest you relax yourself and go with the flow. Try not to get too nervous. Calm yourself and pace." That was good enough right?

The boy considered it. "Well....so, if this..._event_ occurs...and I do lose..control, she won't...I won't-"

"Trunks," He gave the teen an even stare. "It's like concealing your power level. You remember when I taught you that? Having the control to release as much ki as you want? Think of it like that except then you'll have to substitute your ki level for your actual strength."

That gave the kid a better outlook and he looked considerably better. "Have....." _Oh god, I can't believe I'm asking this. _"Have you ever hurt mom?" His voice was nearly silent as he asked, his eyes locked onto the ceiling.

Vegeta was slightly angered at the personal question but he saw the pained expression on his son's face and took pity. "No. But you have to understand that I was much older than you when......" He trailed off and they both knew what word he could have inserted but didn't. "So I'm telling you, if you honestly believe this...brownie is worth it, and I mean _worth it all_, then take it slow."

Trunks smiled and the sight made his father ease down a bit. _Heh, this parental stuff was easy_. "Yeah dad, I know what you mean."

He turned to leave but stopped when his father called his name. (_or his 'surname'; boy_.) "Don't forget to protect yourself." His hard voice was back, the voice he used when they trained. "There are plenty of girls out there who just want your money."

Trunks laughed good naturedly and didn't catch the smirk that graced Vegeta's face. "Yeah, thanks dad." Then he was gone, whistling and once again, seemingly, happy.

*******

"You know woman," Vegeta growled as he, for the third time that day, unloaded a stack of fresh sheets to their bedroom. "Some men wouldn't put up with your ridiculous demands or annoying family. Some would leave you in a split second."

"Well then I'm lucky I have _you_." She cooed sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes. It would have been attractive if the black bags, swollen, red eyes and messy hair hadn't been present. It was well into the day and she hadn't shown much signs of getting better. Their bedroom was slowly turning into a dark, messy chamber that smelled of sick. She sneezed and sat back with a sigh. "Oh I hate being sick."

"Not as much as I do."

Bulma rolled her eyes and was beginning to retort before the door was slammed open and none other then the blue haired, eleven year old replica of her came marching in, eyes flashing. She raised her eyebrows at her daughter and could barely muster up a question before the girl went off ranting.

"MOM! You wouldn't BELIEVE what dad did! O-M-G, I was_ soooo_ embarrassed! Why in the WORLD did you marry such an evil MAN!? Do you wanna know what he did!? He BROKE Kenny's hand! Yeah! I know! Totally broke it right in front of EVERYONE. Luckily enough, no one saw him or recognized him so they couldn't tell who it is. THEN, he gave me my purse and it was EMPTY!" Her eyes locked onto her father's indifferent stare. "How could you give a girl a purse and not have anything in it!?" Her voice had reached all the way to a screech and Vegeta winced and rubbed at his sensitive ears.

"Bulla, "He started in anger, eyes narrowing dangerously."For one, knock the next time you come in. Second, I don't give a shit what happened to that _old man_ you were skipping class with." He smirked at her appalled look, her secret exposed. "And you're_ eleven_. Why in the world your mother lets you walk around in hardly anything and wear makeup is beyond me."

"ARGH!" The girl screamed in frustration. "YOU'RE UNBELIEVABLE."

"Okay, okay, hold on here!"

Father and daughter broke gaze to turn and stare at the ill woman lying in bed, her voice stuffed and scratchy. "First off, VEGETA! How could you do that!? I thought you said you hadn't hurt anyone?" She only got a grunt from the man. "And BULLA! Skipping!? Young lady, you're on punishment. No makeup, cell phone and definitely, no dates with boys."

Vegeta gave the girl a victorious smirk and she frowned. "No fair! How come dad doesn't get punished!?"

His smirk vanished and transformed into a scowl. "Because I'm not a child!" He didn't notice it until now but his children obviously thought of Bulma as the leader in the household and that fact was staring to bother him (_'piss him off'_ was more like it).

Bulma rolled her eyes. He sure was acting like a child by arguing with his_ eleven year old_ daughter.

Bulla 'hmphed' and folded her arms in a very Vegeta-like manner. "Whatever. Mom, are you still going to help me bake my cookies?" Her voice was flat and defeated.

Her mom cocked her head to the side.

"For the bake sale tomorrow! O-M-G, You forgot didn't you!?"

"Uh...no, of course not." Then, with a cough and a violent sneeze that turned her head, Bulma smiled tiredly. "Vegeta will help you. Right, honey?"

A slow smirk spread on Bulla's face as she turned to stare at her father. He looked at his wife with a look of disbelief, saw the evil glint in her eye and wondered if he'd been set up. His shoulders slumped when he realized that this (on some weird level) was _his_ punishment. He thought about arguing and yelling and flying away but after deciding it'd take to much effort, he muttered,

"Like I have a choice."

*******

For the fourth time that day, Vegeta was in the infamous Capsule Corp kitchen. His blue haired daughter was beside him. She had changed into baggy sweats and a baggy hoodie for the mess that was sure to come from this experience. Her earlier anger at her father was seemingly gone as she giggled and held up an apron for the Saiyan.

He stared at as if it were a foreign object (which it was, actually) and frowned. "I'm not wearing that."

"But daddy! You have to! Look, I am." She posed in hers and he couldn't help but smirk. If there was one thing he liked about her personality, it was that she let things slide most of the time. She could never stay angry for too long and especially not at him. Then again, Vegeta thought dryly, that could be her short attention span. Either way, it was refreshing. "PLEASE!?" Her eyes grew to the size of bowling balls and she stuck her lip out in a pout.

One glance at the girl was all it took for him to cave and he snatched the item from her and reluctantly put it on, tying it in the back and bushing slightly when Bulla whistled playfully.

"Enough!" He commanded, picking up the piece of paper next to the cookie sheet. He scanned it and read off the ingredients. "One cup butter flavored shortening, 3/4 cup white sugar, 3/4 cup brown sugar, two eggs, two teaspoons vanilla extract, 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, one teaspoon salt, one teaspoon of baking soda, two cups milk, chocolate chips." He furrowed his eyebrows after he was done and glanced at the girl beside him who looked just as confused. "What the hell is all of that?"

She only shrugged.

"Fuck it." Vegeta threw the recipe in the trash and moved towards the oven. "Just get down some stuff. We'll make our own."

Thirty minutes later, the proud prince pulled out the cookie sheet and they stared down at the six balls, mixed with whatever they could find, burnt to crisps and smoke filled the room.

"That went well." Bulla said dryly. Vegeta narrowed his eyes at her and threw the things in the trash.

"We'll just try again." He stated, cracking his knuckles.

They were well on their way to the seventh batch of cookies when the doorbell rang. Soon after, a tall figure entered the kitchen, sniffing at the smoke-filled kitchen and the mess that the daughter and father team had made. Mushy things were hanging off the ceiling, the floor, the fridge, and the walls.

"Hey guys, what's going on?"

They turned, squinted their eyes and recognition hit them. Bulla's face lit up and Vegeta frowned.

"Hi Goku!"

"Kakarot."

Goku smiled, walking in and looking down at their burnt cookie sheets. "Baking food?" His eyes grew wide with anticipation of eating.

"We're trying." Bulla rolled her eyes, shooting her father a tired look.

He growled. "What do you want, Kakarot?"

"I want to help!" He laughed and put his hand behind his head. "Well, I came over to see if Bulma was up. Chi wanted to see her."

"Mom's sick. Dad's been helping us out the whole day." She smiled brightly. Goku took the information in, gave the Prince a once over and then burst into laughter at the idea, holding his sides. Bulla joined in with her high giggles.

Vegeta, with black stains on his face and _apron_, frowned and stomped his foot. "ENOUGH!" They quieted. "Kakarot, go NOW. I don't need to deal with you. Not today."

The taller man's face fell. "Aw, but I want to help! Come on Vegeta, I'm a master at baking!"

The flamed haired male rolled his eyes and turned. "Kakarot,_ eating_ a substance that someone else baked does not make you a master at baking."

Silence.

"It doesn't?"

Vegeta growled and Bulla giggled again at the man's innocence. He was just too cute. Once when the blue haired girl had confessed to having a crush on the man, her father had flew off and, according to Chichi and Goten, had commanded Goku to fight him. That was one battle between them the Prince had won.

"Go home, Kakarot."

"Come on, I can bake!" Goku whined, pushing them out of the way. He turned on the stove, picked up a burnt cookie and placed it on the eye.

"You idiot, don't-"

Too late. The substance caught on fire and the flames roared into the air. The tall Saiyan made an 'eek' sound and tumbled back. Bulla watched with blinking eyes as Goku collected Orange Juice and milk from the fridge and started to chuck the liquids at the fire.

"Those are brand new, Kakarot! What the fuck are you doing!?"

"Trying to put out the flames!" He yelled back frantically.

Vegeta growled low in his throat, turned the faucet on and filled up a glass. "This is all you had to do-" He stopped abruptly when juice mixed with milk went airborne and splashed all over him, soaking him from head to toe.

Goku winced and offered, "Sorry. I thought you were on fire."

Bulla covered her mouth to conceal the laughter struggling to get free as she watched her father stare at his rival with barely restrained anger, the liquid dripping off of his form. The shorter Saiyan turned and said, in a strangely calm voice that surprised both spectators,

"At least the fire's out." Then, digging in his pocket, he pulled out two wet bills and threw them at his daughter's feet. "That's fifty bucks. Go buy some cookies."

*******

After kicking Goku out, realizing it was late and, after hearty agrees from his children, ordering a pizza, Vegeta laid down in his bedroom beside his wife once again. He remembered that, hours ago, he had been in this exact place, completely oblivious to all that he'd have to go through this painful day. And finally, it came to an end right where it began.

Bulma was on top of him but not in_ that_ type of way. She was lying on his back, rubbing his tense shoulders. Her cold had cleared up considerably and she looked much better having brushed her hair, taken another bath and disposed of all the soiled tissues. The big screen remained in their bedroom however (her request).

"Oh, I'm so proud of you sweetie." She whispered, massaging his back. "I honestly didn't think you'd be able to do it. Albeit, you almost burned down the kitchen."

"_Kakarot_ almost burned down the kitchen." He sneered angrily. "And you owe me, woman. A LOT."

She laughed. "I _know_. But at least now you understand what I go through _everyday_ while you train."

"I don't see how you do it. I was this close to blasting your mother, our children and _Kakarot_ to the other world." He shook his head and groaned when she hit the right spot. "But I suppose you should be appreciatedmoreorsomething."

Bulma cocked her head to the side at his mumbled speech. "What was that?"

He sighed heavily and said in a huff, "You should be appreciated more."

She grinned graciously. "Why thank you, Vegeta! Finally, the recognition I deserve. Maybe you could give me a metal for all my hard work."

Suddenly, their positions flipped. In under a second, Bulma was staring up into her husband's dark eyes as they got heavy with what she could only determine was lust. "Oh, I intend to give you much more then that." He purred, tracing her jaw with a finger.

"In the mood now huh?" Bulma teased, remembering their last conversation of the subject. She reached over to turn off the light but he stopped her, grabbing her wrist. She gave him a confused look that was instantly replaced with pleasure when he kissed her neck.

"You owe me, remember?" He smirked devilishly, pulling her close and sliding off her pants. "Lights on."

* * *

Yeah so this was super long and I hadn't planned to put Goku in it but I love him so much! Haha, I just had to have him make an appearance. It was a super weird ending too, I know bwaaha. Well, that's it. Hope you liked it enough to review! ^_^

_**D4 OUT.**_


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